The Orchestration
by tied-and-feathered
Summary: Davy learns a lesson from Micky and Peter.


"Move it or lose it!" Micky demanded.

"Not a chance, man. I was here first!" Davy clapped back.

"You may be a tiny person but your taking up the entire space!"

Davy had come back from the beach and stretched himself out across the chaise lounge. He was enjoying his lounging time and was hell bent on not moving.

"You snooze you lose, mate."

Micky walked over and picked Davy's legs up off the couch, sat down and put Davy's feet in his lap. It happened so quickly that Davy didn't even have a chance to protest. He just looked at Micky with wide eyed disgust.

"What? I needed to improvise!"

Davy settled himself back in to get comfortable. "Alright then, just don't bother me."

"Me? I would never," Micky answered with sly smile.

Davy rested his head back and enjoyed the quiet. He began to drift off to sleep when he was woken up by movements on the other end of the lounge. Micky was using his hands to drum.

"What are you doing?"

"Drumming."

"I know that," Davy rolled his eyes. "Why are you drumming on the bottoms of my feet?"

"I can't help it they've got sole!" Micky began laughing. "Hey, usually I'd use my own legs but you insisted on not moving and now your feet are in my way. It was the only solution."

"How about not drumming?"

"You can't ask a drummer not to drum! It's like asking a snake not to slither."

"Well now you're bothering me!"

"Sorry, would it be better if I played a different instrument? You like the tambourine, right?"

Micky lifted Davy's foot and began tapping his hand against it.

"You're insane, you know that!" Davy wretched his foot away and put it back down.

"What about...the trumpet?"

Micky began pressing his fingers down on Davy's soles.

"Actually that feels pretty good, like a massage. You can play the trumpet, tuba, french horn, or whatever as long as it keeps feeling like that."

Davy nestled back into his spot and Micky continued his movements massaging Davy's feet in the process.

"I'm bored of that," he said after a few minutes.

"I'm not, you're good at that. Have you been holding back your brass instrument skills on us?"

"I think I'll try more woodwind now. How about the flute?"

Micky eased his fingertip pressure and began making flightly movements around Davy's feet. Davy giggled and pulled his feet away.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That bloody flute playing! It tickles!"

"Does it now?" Micky smiled deviously.

Micky leapt over and captured Davy's ankles and pulled them onto his lap. He secured the ankles with his left arm and used his right hand continue his flute playing. Davy struggled to sit up and block Micky's advances to no avail. He began laughing and was barely able to move. He writhed around trying to escape.

"Cut it out, Mick!" Davy gasped.

"Why? This melody is so lovely."

Micky continued the torture until the front door knob began to turn. He released Davy and they both straightened themselves out. Davy took some deep breaths so he would seem somewhat normal. Mike entered followed by Peter. Mike looked back and forth between the two curiously. They were terrified that they had been caught.

"Davy, why are you on the furniture with those wet swim trunks on?" Mike scolded.

"I'm not wet anymore, I'm dry."

Mike walked towards the stairs and when he was out of earshot, micky whispered to Davy. "You won't be dry for long."

Davy shuddered at the thought. He seemed to be enjoying this little game between them. If he wasn't then he would have left when he had the chance. There he still sat though, feet still in Micky's lap.

"I'm going upstairs for some peace and quiet," Mike announced. "Don't bother me!"

"Micky doesn't understand that sentiment," Davy whispered and Micky him shared a giggle.

"What are you two up to?" Peter asked innocently.

There was a pause since neither of them knew if they should involve Peter in this game.

"I'm playing instruments on Davy's feet," Micky finally answered.

"What?"

"Like this," Micky said shaking Davy's ankles like a pair of maracas.

"Why?"

Davy and Micky both looked at each other.

"I don't know we were just goofing around and having fun," Micky answered.

"Can I play? I know lots of instruments!" Peter said proudly.

"Sure you can!" Micky declared. "You can hold him down!"

"Huh?" Peter said.

At the same time Davy nearly shouted, "Do what to me now?"

A wicked smile spread across Micky's face. "Peter, Davy is a flight risk. He needs to be held down so I can finish my symphony."

"Why is he a flight risk?"

"Because he's too ticklish to endure even a woodwind instrument and I can't imagine what it will be like with the string section."

Peter stared blankly ahead. "Makes sense," he finally uttered. "Hang on!"

Micky and Davy stared at each other quizzically as Peter went into his room. Micky began drumming his hands again. Suddenly, Davy felt a force behind him pulling him back against the chaise lounge. Peter had stealthily come out of his room and tied Davy's shoulder to the back of the lounge with scarves from their time at the gypsy camp.

"What are yo-mmmmph" Davy was interrupted by a scarf tied in his mouth.

Peter dusted his hands. "There now he's not going anywhere and I can play too. Plus he won't wake up Mike!"

Peter watched Davy try to claw at his mouth and took another scarf and tied his wrists together. "For good measure."

Micky nodded. "Smart! Maybe his ankles too. My arm is getting tired holding him."

Peter tied a scarf around Davy's ankles and his knees to the chaise lounge. Micky ignored Davy's muffled pleas and rubbed his hands together.

"Now we've played the drums, tambourine, maracas, trumpet, and flute. Any suggestions, Pete?"

"I mean guitar is an obvious choice."

"Ah, yes the guitar. Let me show you how it's done first."

"By all means."

Micky raised his hand and began brushing his fingers up and down across Davy's feet producing stifled screams from across the lounge. "You see the trick is to get the strumming motion down like so."

Micky picked Davy's ankles up a bit to have better access to the area. He continued strumming and looking over to see the pained look on his hostage's face. It was obvious that this was more torturous than the flute.

"Micky, there's one thing you're forgetting. May I?"

Micky stood up and allowed Peter to scoot in. "Certainly."

"Now strumming is important, but don't forget the picking motion. Which is also very necessary for the bass."

Peter began one finger at a time making small swipes across Davy's soles. "Don't also forget the different chords." Peter moved around each foot catching all spots heel, arch, ball, and toes. Davy was writhing around uncontrollably as Peter worked insufferably. There were tears streaming down Davy's cheeks.

"Excellent form, Mr. Tork," Micky applauded. "What do you know about the more classical string instruments?"

"I know that they all require bows of some sort to get the perfect sound. But we don't own a bow."

Micky snapped his fingers. "Not to worry, I know the perfect substitute!"

Micky walked out onto the patio and began rummaging around. Peter looked over at Davy's face. It was fearful yet there was an aroused sparkle behind the eyes. He took his fingers and massaged up and down his feet for some relief. Micky returned minutes later with his hands behind his back.

"I found us two substitute bows," producing items from behind his back. "One for smaller instruments like the violin or fiddle. And a larger one for the cello."

Davy squinted his eyes to see two seagull feathers in Micky's hands. He audibly gulped.

"Now, Mr. Tork, would you do me the honor of explaining the violin to me," Micky handed over a medium sized white and black feather.

"With pleasure...I hope it's as good for you as it will be for me," Peter locked eyes with Davy. "Now the trick is to remember to make slow gentle movements to get the right sound. Like so."

Peter swept the feather in caressing movements across the bottoms of Davy's feet.

"Sometimes you use long strokes," Peter demonstrated. "And others are more short. The key is the slow speed."

Peter continued his agonizing movements as Davy shook with quiet laughter. The delicate movements were so sensual to him and his swim trunks began to bulge.

"Now this differs from the fiddle, which I assume you're a master at?" Peter continued the teasing dialogue with Micky.

"Absolutely," Micky answered trading seats. "Now the movements of the bow to fiddle are quick and erratic."

Micky began making sharp, fast movements across the captive feet with the feather. Davy quaked and pulled at his bindings in an attempt to free himself and get away. His gag slipped out of his mouth letting out a burst of laughter. Peter dove on top on him a covered Davy's mouth with his hand. They all stopped in their tracks and listened to see if Mike had heard them. After a few moments it was obvious they were in the clear.

Peter moved to replace the gag and felt something. He looked down at Davy's tight shorts.

"Bonjour Monsieur."

Peter peeled himself away. He walked back over to the edge of the chaise lounge and picked up the large discarded feather and spun it between his fingers.

"You know what's a shame?"

"What's that?" Micky asked.

"The fiddle and cello rarely perform duets together," Peter had a sinister smile cross his face.

"Are you proposing that we break that pattern?" Micky began untying Davy's ankles.

"Precisely."

Micky moved from the seat onto the floor to Davy's left and Peter took the right side. They both used one hand to trap the ankles against the chaise. Davy's eyes frantically looked from Peter to Micky as they watched the terror on his face. He was afraid of the suffering he was about to endure.

"One, two," Micky counted, "One, two, three, four!"

Peter and Micky both used their feathers to attack Davy's soles in different styles. Peter using his torturously slow movements and Micky using sharp fast ones. Davy was bucking and fighting. He wasn't sure which side was more agonizing and he couldn't concentrate on anything else except the soft caresses of the feathers. The pair would alternate between different areas of the feet. Micky was focused mostly on the upper, dragging his petite feather through Davy's toes and pricking his toe stems with the needle of the feather. Peter was stroking his feather across the arch sometimes straying to the heel or ball of the foot. Davy couldn't stand it anymore, he tried yelling and begging for them to stop. This audibly caught their attention.

"What's that, Babe? You're ready for the finale?" Micky asked. "Mr. Tork if you'd be so kind to tie these beauties back up."

Micky kissed Davy's big toe as Peter tightly tied the scarf in place.

"No more of this instrument nonsense," Micky stated. "I just want to see what he can take. Join me?"

Peter caught on to Micky's idea quickly. "I'd be delighted to."

Both men discarded there feathers and wiggled their fingers where Davy could see. They then used their combined 4 hands and 20 fingers to mercilessly tickle Davy's feet. The stimulation was too much to bear and after a few minutes Davy's shoulders broke through the scarves and he sat up and tried to pull out his gag so he could use his mouth to untie his wrists. Peter and Micky dove into action. Peter took the tied wrists and pulled them up over Davy's head.

"You're gonna pay for that," Micky teased and began tickling Davy's armpits.

Peter put his head between Davy's arms in order to hold them in place and took over the armpits as Micky moved down the ribs and stomach. Both men attacking with maximum capacity and Davy was helpless to stop them. As Peter continued on Micky removed the gag and stuck his tongue in Davy's mouth feeling the vibration of the laughter as Davy kissed back feverishly. Peter stopped and Micky parted his lips from Davy's.

"Next time move over when I ask you to," Micky winked.


End file.
